


walk of shame

by umbralmagician



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Frottage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralmagician/pseuds/umbralmagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vector blackmails Durbe into seducing Nasch into giving up a secret or risk having his homeland destroyed. But Durbe's guilt over betraying his most precious friendship convinces him that what he deserves from Nasch is not gentle love, but pain. Nasch, thinking that this is the kind of relationship Durbe wants, reluctantly obliges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	walk of shame

Each time he leaves Nasch’s room, the putrid slime of guilt seeps into each pore on his body and the shame brings him to tears. But no matter how hard he scrubs at his body with soaps and cleansing oils and scalding water, where his skin blisters and bleeds, no matter how many handfuls of herbal leaves he shoves into his mouth to get rid of the taste of Nasch’s seed – so many he throws them back up sometimes, but he throws up most of the seed as well, so maybe it’s for the best – he can’t wash it away.

But he keeps going back and pretends to like it, and after a while maybe he believes that part of him _does._

His walk of shame to the knights’ baths below the palace is physically painful tonight, between his legs, but the worst of it is running into Vector, who has taken it upon himself to make Durbe’s life hell, or more like hell than it already was, to rub the salt into Durbe’s self-inflicted wounds. After all, Vector is the reason he found himself in Nasch’s bed in the first place, and it was all because Durbe was too afraid of Vector to refuse.

Vector adopts a singsong voice, which always draws the most indignity out of Durbe, and Vector knows it. “Durbe and Nasch, sitting on a throne, I think that they’re gonna bone—“

Durbe clenches his fists so tightly his fingernails draw blood.

“Not in a good mood tonight? Failed again?”

Vector always asks the question – _did he tell you –_ and Durbe’s response is always _no._ He doesn’t try very hard to get Nasch to tell him where the magic runes are, and Durbe knows that Vector knows that Durbe would never tell him in the first place if the threat of invading Durbe’s home kingdom wasn’t constantly tightening around Durbe’s neck like a hangman’s noose.

So they’re trapped in an impasse, because Vector can’t get at Nasch by himself, and he can’t kill Nasch or the runes won’t work, so Durbe has to keep trying to seduce the answer out of the king who gave him a second home and a loving friendship that Durbe, under threat of having his kingdom’s blood on his hands, is secretly abusing in order to gather information for a warlock who wants to use Nasch’s family’s powers to usurp the kingdom.

Maybe he can buy some time to think of a way to stop Vector, Durbe reasoned at first, but it’s three weeks into this arrangement and he is beginning to think he’d rather be dead than have to choose which home he wanted destroyed at the hands of this sadist.

“I don’t think you’re trying hard enough,” Vector says, leaning his face close to Durbe’s ear. He sniffs Durbe’s face deliberately; Durbe has to resist the urge to turn and hit Vector. “Smells like you had your mouth on his dick all night. Ever tried kissing his mouth instead?”

“Fuck off.”

“No, that’s _your_ job.” Vector pulls Durbe’s cloak off, and Durbe is suddenly very aware of his sweat-soaked work shirt and stained trousers. “I’m getting tired of waiting, Durbe. My fleet is waiting on my order to invade your birthplace, in case you’ve forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Durbe whispers hoarsely. The aftertaste in his mouth almost makes him gag. “But he doesn’t like talking when we—when this… happens.”

Nasch didn’t just shun talking when they fucked; he wouldn’t look at Durbe, wouldn’t kiss him, and oftentimes Durbe finds himself on his hands and knees while Nasch thrusts into him from behind. The foreplay consists of rough frottage and oiled fingers, trousers pulled down only enough to be out of the way. There is no sensuality there, just raw, animalistic thrusts and grunts, as if both of them know they only want to get it over with to satisfy some base need.

The shame is worse when he has to admit this to Vector, and his face burns hot, his eyes sting with tears, his stomach churns – maybe he can throw up some of Nasch’s fluid right onto Vector – but Vector just laughs at Durbe’s humiliation.

“Try taking control then,” Vector sneers. “Get him drunk. Drug him. Force it out of him. I need those runes, and I’m getting really impatient.”

With a flash of light, he’s gone, and Durbe is left to complete his walk alone to the baths.

\---

He scrubs his body until his skin is raw and pink and the hot water sears, but it’s not enough. There’s some dried blood behind his cock from when Nasch entered him dry, because the jar of oil Nasch usually used was empty.

He staggers out of the bath, slides his filthy body across the cold stone floor. He shoves his fingers down his throat and forces himself to throw up, and again, and again—

\---

It’s always uncomfortable being around Nasch in the daytime ever since they’ve begun their affair; there’s a distance in the way he speaks to Durbe, an odd formality, and Durbe can’t make eye contact. Under any other circumstance, he would have welcomed the opportunity to sleep with Nasch, because he’s sure the only reason it’s rough and painful and humiliating is because Nasch senses Durbe’s discomfort with the early attempts at gentle touches and thinks a rough fuck is what his knight wants. In truth, Durbe starts to believe he _wants_ Nasch to hurt him because he’s hurting Nasch whether he realizes it or not.

\---

His trousers are around his knees, his cock is hard, and Nasch is shoving an oil-slicked finger into Durbe’s ass, still sore from three nights ago – last night, desperate to avoid Nasch screwing him from behind again despite the newly-filled bottle of oil on the bedside table, Durbe had shoved Nasch into the bed and sucked Nasch’s cock so far down the back of his throat that he barely tasted it when Nasch came – but something about the way Durbe whines in pain must catch Nasch’s attention, because he stops.

“What is it?” Nasch’s voice is reluctant and distant and slightly slurred; Durbe had talked Nasch into drinking more than usual tonight.

“It hurts,” Durbe croaks, and Nasch pulls his finger out. He feels some of the warm blood trickle out with it.

There’s a pause while Nasch wipes some of the blood away before suggesting, “we could switch places.”

“No.” Durbe takes his hands off the bed and straightens up, still on his knees. Nasch’s chest is against his back, the tip of his rather limp penis against Durbe’s tailbone. “This was a mistake, I—I should go.”

But between the pain from his bleeding ass and his own fully-erect dick, walking would quickly prove difficult and Durbe had to admit to himself that he was going to need Nasch to get him off before he could go anywhere.

Nasch coaxes him back on the bed, ignoring the blood spots on his sheets, and reached an arm across Durbe so their chests touched and Nasch’s warm breath condensed on Durbe’s skin. Nasch’s knee presses with a tantalizingly insufficient amount of pressure into Durbe’s erection, and Durbe groans involuntarily.

He is struggling to articulate to Nasch that a handjob would be sufficient for release and that he could suck Nasch off before leaving if he wanted, but before he knew what was happening, Nasch’s wet mouth is hot on his, biting and tugging at Durbe’s lips and sucking Durbe’s dry tongue with a rhythmic, rocking motion. Durbe’s throat makes a high-pitched sound of pleasure and anticipation, even as his cock throbs; Nasch slides his hands up Durbe’s chest, fingering his nipples, and pulls hard. This sends Durbe over the edge, coming all over Nasch’s lower stomach and thighs while his scream is muffled by Nasch’s mouth and tongue, but while Durbe is now exhausted despite his still-erect penis, Nasch was only now getting hard.

“I don’t want to be sucked off tonight,” he breathes into Durbe’s panting mouth. “I can tell you don’t like doing it.”

“Then what—“ Durbe is about to ask, because Nasch had only ever rough fucked his ass or had Durbe suck him, but his question is answered when Nasch slowly starts rubbing their cocks together. If Durbe hadn’t already spilled his load, this would have done it for sure; his fingernails tighten in the taut muscles of Nasch’s back as he lets out an embarrassingly loud and prolonged _ah… ah…!_

Nasch is panting hard now, grinding faster and faster; the friction is hot from their pubes rubbing together and Durbe waits – waits— Nasch is biting into Durbe’s collarbone, but it feels so _good,_ and Durbe finally works up the courage to take Nasch by his slender hips, roll him over onto his back, and look into Nasch’s face.

The king’s face is red and sweaty, his mouth parted to release heavy panting and his chin is lifted expectantly, but there is a regal beauty to the whole thing, a regal beauty to Nasch’s soft hair plastered to his face by sweat and his tense, strong jaw quivering. Under Durbe’s tightly straddled hips, Nasch is struggling to keep his momentum going. But Durbe is getting hard again and he doesn’t want Nasch to release just then.

He lifts himself up by the elbows and Nasch wildly thrusts up to meet Durbe again, but Durbe is busy freeing his ankles from his trousers, and on the way down to remove Nasch’s from around his knees, he bites the inside of Nasch’s thigh.

“Dur…be—“ Nasch groans in frustration, and his hands reach down, clasping around his own cock, but Durbe grabs his wrists, slides his own wet dick up along the inside of Nasch’s thigh, and pushes Nasch’s legs apart with his own. Durbe repositions himself, legs now free to widen on either side of Nasch, and they look into each other’s sweating, panting faces for a second before Durbe’s face is on Nasch’s; he grinds their cocks together once more while biting and sucking Nasch’s mouth, tongue, jaw, collarbone, his nipple—

Nasch screams out his own _ah!_ of ecstasy as his back arches under Durbe and his warm semen spills over the inside of Durbe’s legs; Durbe follows suit for the second time a few wild thrusts later, and collapses on top of Nasch.

They lay on each other, breathing heavily, their groins still pressed together. Durbe is afraid to move lest he stimulate himself or Nasch again – not that he would complain – but Nasch takes over again, rolling Durbe off of him before leaning down to lick the warm fluid from Durbe’s stomach and the tip of his cock while Durbe twitches. When he finishes, he looks back at Durbe who, now that they’re done fucking and the pleasure is wearing off, has the familiar sensation of humiliation and shame washing over him.

“You look upset about that.”

“I’m not.” Durbe tries not to look at Nasch stretching as lithely as a cat, the muscles on his chest tightening. Against the pale skin, Durbe sees red marks and bruises from his bites.

“Yes you are.” Nasch lowers himself to the bed, propping himself up on an elbow. “This is the first time you’ve looked me in the eyes while we fucked. You always say you want it to be rough but when it is, you’re miserable.”

Durbe refuses to look Nasch in the eyes again as he struggles to think of an excuse to leave. When Nasch places his hand on Durbe’s own toned chest, Durbe can’t move.

“Is it because you’re worried this might damage our friendship, because—“

“That’s not it,” Durbe interrupts, sitting up to search out his trousers in the tangle of sheets, because that _was_ it and he needed to distract himself. “I’m just—“

He falters.

He wants desperately to tell Nasch about Vector’s threat, but what would Vector do if he knew? With Nasch’s powers, and his army, he would be able to hold off an attack from Vector on his own kingdom, but at the cost of many lives. If he told Vector the location of Nasch’s runes, Vector would destroy them and make Nasch’s kingdom defenseless. And if Durbe refused to follow through with Vector’s plan, Vector would invade Durbe’s homeland and massacre hundreds of men, women, and children.

No matter what he did, there would be the blood of countless people on his hands.

“Just what?” Nasch presses impatiently.

“I—I’m a knight, in your court, and this entire… this thing we have is—“ Durbe looks away, embarrassed and knowing that his lie will be detected immediately. “It’s not right.”

“You didn’t seem bothered by this _thing we have_ when we were making out in closets or in the baths or after escaping the palace on Mahha—“

“There’s a difference,” Durbe says darkly, because it likely was this knowledge among some of the palace staff that made its way to Vector and opened the doors to Vector blackmailing Durbe in the first place.

“Then I guess we shouldn’t do this anymore.” There’s a hint of bitterness in Nasch’s voice.

“No, I guess not.”

Durbe finds his trousers on the floor and clambers uncomfortably from the bed. Nasch watches him pull them on.

“I wish you would tell me what’s been bothering you these past few weeks.”

For a moment, Durbe is tempted.

“Good night, my friend,” he finds himself saying instead, and he leaves without looking back, completing his walk of shame down to the baths for the very last time.


End file.
